Seven Days of Whouffle
by FandomObsessedGirl
Summary: 7 Whouffle one-shot type stories all based around themes given for the Seven-Days-of-Whouffle challenge on tumblr, so thanks to the sevendaysofwhouffle blog for the prompts :) some chapters will be split into a few sections, but will all be based around a certain theme. Pairing: 11xClara.
1. Firsts

**A/N This is for the Seven-Days-of-Whouffle event! My contribution to day 1 – 'Firsts' is a series of short one-shots detailing first dates, first kisses, first child and, of course, first attempt at cooking for each other! I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I claim to. Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

**~First Date~ **

"So, where are we going?" asked Clara, circling the console, watching the Doctor as he pressed buttons and pulled levers, sending them hurtling through time and space, though Clara could hardly tell they were moving. These days, it was the take-offs and landings that shook the place, not the actual flight. This trip, however, was different to the others the pair had been on. It was their first date. Clara had suggested it, and to her surprise, the Doctor had agreed. So there they were, flying through the time-space vortex on their way to a time and place decided upon by the Doctor. Hopefully.

"Hold on," he said cryptically, grinning round the console at her and Clara instinctively grabbed onto it, because they were landing… somewhere. As soon as the grating noise had died down and the shaking had stopped, the Doctor was bounding over to the doors, with Clara just behind.

"The gardens of— oh," said the Doctor suddenly disheartened. Clara stuck her head around the door as he had done to see… destruction. A city was burning in front of them and she exchanged a glance with the Doctor.

Instinctively, they both began to run towards the city, while the Doctor looked around for any sign of the year, worried he might have got the date a bit wrong.

When they reached the city, the Doctor still hadn't found a clue towards the date, and there appeared to be some kind of mob attacking the city, setting fire to the houses and people – aliens – were running, screaming. Clara looked at the Doctor, and his face was stormy. She took his hand uncertainly.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Doctor?"

Suddenly, he took off again at a run, dragging her behind him. He darted inside a house where the front door had been left swinging off the hinges, but it hadn't been burned down… yet.

When Clara saw what the Doctor was looking at, she was astonished. "They have calendars?" she asked in amazement. He nodded absentmindedly, tearing it down from its hook to check the date.

"Humans made an impact," he told her. "A few live here, but we have to leave. Now." He was already halfway to the door and Clara was following him, trusting him, but a bit unsure about what she was being asked to do.

"You mean we leave them all? Doctor, they're being attacked!"

"I know," he said, heavily. "And we have to let it happen. I'm sorry Clara, there's nothing we can do. This is a fixed point. This planet lived in harmony until a new virus started to spread. It affects the mind; turns people hostile. That's what's happening out there. Those affected the worst are destroying everything. There's no cure. Everyone is either killed by the fires, or eventually by the disease. And if we stay here, Clara, the disease will take us too. Humans are particularly susceptible to it."

"There's nothing we can do?" she whispered, hesitantly.

"No," he said. "All we can do is leave." Still conflicted, torn between the knowledge that if the Doctor said they couldn't help, there was nothing to do and the burning desire – no pun intended – to help. The Doctor reached out a hand to her – a plea for her to come with him before it was too late – and she took it, afraid for her own sanity and life. Together, they ran back to the TARDIS, not stopping to look back.

* * *

**~First Kiss~**

**(A/N Set after TNotD; 11 and Clara just got out the Doctor's timestream)**

"Clara? Clara, please." Somewhere in her mind, the desperation in the Doctor's voice registered. He sounded like he was crying.

Clara stirred, fidgeting uncomfortably and groaning. The Doctor's hand was cupping her head just above the floor and his other hand was stroking her cheek. "Are you OK?" he asked, concerned.

"I… yeah… I did it, didn't I? I stopped him?" asked Clara, a little shaken. The Doctor pressed his lips to her forehead and rested his forehead against hers.

"You did it," he reassured her, breathing deeply and pulling her into an embrace. Her shaky breaths started to regulate as he held her close, though her heartbeat was still erratic. But she knew that wasn't from the shock she had sustained.

"I was scared, Clara," he admitted, still holding her against him tightly. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You'll have to try harder than that, Chin Boy." It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but a joke nonetheless. She hadn't realised until she said it that it wasn't _her_ that called him Chin Boy… it had been one of her echoes that he noticed. Oswin Oswald, the girl who'd been converted into a Dalek. He pulled back and stared at her in concern.

"You… remember it?" Clara had to think.

"Not all of it – not consciously, anyway. I remember quite a bit, from different echoes though."

"I'm sorry Clara; you never should have had to do that. What you don't remember will probably come through in your dreams… you might be having a lot of nightmares."

"It was worth it," Clara murmured. "I'd do it again."

"But you won't have to. You'll never go through that again, I promise." He pulled her close again, breathing in the scent of dirt and ashes that was lingering on her. This time, Clara was the first to pull out of the hug.

"I remember Victorian London," she told him. "Angie and Artie… they found a photo of here – me – there once. The snowmen, the kids, their dad…"

"He fancied you," the Doctor said, pointlessly.

"But what I remember most about that lifetime wasn't any of that." Their eyes locked, for a long second, then Clara pulled him close and kissed him. This time, he kissed her back, still holding her protectively. Her lips were just as he'd remembered them, not that he'd taken a special interest in that kiss… he _didn't_ fancy her… did he? But he was kissing her back and he was noticing differences to the kiss in Victorian London with her echo. It was longer, he was kissing back and she tasted like… destruction and like she'd been living in a derelict ghost town, which in a way she had. And that made the message he'd sent when he'd first met the original Clara all the more important to him. She was under his protection.

* * *

**~First Child~**

"So what do we call her?" asked Clara. She was in a hospital bed on Earth, having just given birth to a baby girl.

The Doctor had offered her all sorts of various different types of care while she gave birth, but nothing he'd said had swayed Clara from her decision. The baby was hers, and she was human, so her daughter would be born on Earth.

Clara was cradling the baby in her arms, and the Doctor was sitting next to her, apparently talking to the baby. "Well I could tell you what she's got to say but I don't think you're going to call her Lady Amelia Rose, ruler of the cosmos."

"I'm not calling her Amelia or Rose!" The Doctor looked at her as if she'd just kicked his puppy. "I'm sorry, but I'm not naming her after your mother-in-law, best friend, or the love of a previous life." Ouch. That hurt and now he looked as if Clara had kicked several puppies.

"But any other suggestions are welcome," she said hastily, trying to make it up to him. "Just remember I know ALL your companions names." The Doctor scowled at her, instantly banishing about 100 names from his mind.

"How about a compromise? We can give her 2 middle names, one your choice, one my choice and we can choose someone to name them after. As long as they aren't a previous relationship." Clara thought about that, and nodded. She had wanted to name her first daughter after her mother, so that was an easy decision to make.

"Well, I choose Ellie. After my mum." The Doctor nodded; he had watched as Clara said goodbye to her mum for the last time. "And I like the name Arianne."

"I like Arianne too. Arianne Ellie Sarah Oswald?" Clara nodded.

"After Sarah-Jane?" she asked. The Doctor didn't respond except with a small sound that Clara took to mean 'yes'. Arianne was trying to grab at the Doctor's fingers, making Clara giggle.

"Arianne Ellie Sarah Oswald," she agreed. "So, you, no more adventures." The Doctor pouted.

"What if _I_ go on adventures and leave you two in the TARDIS?" Just the look on Clara's face was enough to make him back off. "OK, OK… you're the boss," he muttered and Clara smiled.

"I am the boss," she said, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. "Arianne isn't going anywhere near danger. We'll live on the TARDIS, or we can live on Earth. I don't mind, but if we're on the TARDIS, we stay on the TARDIS. No alien planets, because you just attract trouble." The Doctor pouted again, but he knew it was true. Everywhere he went, something bad happened. He'd be lucky if he managed to live on Earth uneventfully. Maybe the TARDIS would be better, in all. He could get out sometimes while Clara was asleep – he'd just be careful not to wake her – and it was a controlled, safe environment. Everything was onboard that ship, and they could even park her on Earth so Clara could visit family whenever.

"We'll work it out," he assured her. "Arianne will be safe, I promise." Clara nodded, exhausted, placing her trust in him and allowing him to take Arianne in his arms while she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**~First Time Cooking a Meal~**

**~Clara~**

Humming to herself, Clara set to work in one of the TARDIS kitchens, getting together the ingredients to try to make a soufflé for the Doctor. Somewhere else in the ship, he was attempting to make some kind of main course; only she wasn't sure what.

She hadn't explicitly told him she would be making soufflés, though it was quite obvious he knew, seeing as all 3 versions of her that he had met recently had made soufflés, or tried to. None of her soufflés had ever worked but Clara was determined that this time, they would. If the TARDIS liked her, which seemed to be the case at that particular time, maybe the two could work together. With the help of the TARDIS, Clara was sure that her soufflés would turn out fine. However, the TARDIS wasn't playing nice.

Whenever Clara turned around, something would move, or change or she'd notice that an ingredient was out of date, even though it had been perfectly fine seconds ago. "Come on," she said, speaking to the ship.

"Please, just let me do this. For the Doctor. Your Doctor. I'm just tagging along for a bit. You know that." Apparently, the TARDIS was listening to her because the next time Clara turned around to find the baking powder (because she had trouble making them rise), the eggs and milk and flour were sitting on the counter, perfectly in date and neatly lined up.

"Thanks old girl," grinned Clara, beginning preparations. She weighed ingredients, sifted flour, separated and beat eggs, folded ingredients in, and finally, she had finished the making part. All that she needed to do was bake the soufflés and, to be honest, that was where it all went wrong.

After 7 minutes in the oven, Clara bent down, but she couldn't see the soufflés properly through the oven door, so she tried to open it to check on them, but something was stopping her from opening the door.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked the TARDIS, assuming it was her doing. The ship obviously couldn't reply, verbally at least. Clara felt a sensation, a warm one, pass through her brain. The TARDIS worked telepathically, she knew that and Clara quickly realised it was the TARDIS' way of communicating.

"OK, well… can you… do that again when they're ready to be taken out?" she asked, hitching herself up to sit on the counter to wait patiently for the signal.

A couple of minutes later, Clara was lost in a daydream; until an urgent sensation passed through her mind, jolting her back to the present. Pulling on oven gloves, Clara opened the oven door, which opened as smoothly as a freshly oiled door, and pulled out the tray. The soufflés weren't undercooked. They weren't overcooked. And, most importantly, they had risen.

"Yes!" cried Clara, jumping up and down. "Thank you!" she said, patting the counter affectionately. "You're just a big softie really, aren't you?"

**~The Doctor~**

Somewhere not far from Clara's kitchen, the Doctor was setting a table. He knew exactly what Clara was doing and he guessed the soufflés wouldn't work, seeing as Clara always complained about them not rising, or not being cooked properly. Oswin and Victorian Clara had been the same, and he wondered if it was a recurring theme with all of her echoes, or if it had been a coincidence the ones he'd met had had trouble baking.

Anyway, he knew his cooking would be quicker than Clara's; he had a frying pan, a microwave, fishfingers, a microwavable bowl and a tin of custard. It would take him 20 minutes, tops, to stick the custard in the microwave and cook the fishfingers.

Then all he had to do was stick the custard in a bowl and put the fishfingers on plates. Simple. Seeing as he would have 25 minutes spare, he had set a table, expecting to be rushing around, looking for appropriate cutlery and table decorations – Clara liked white roses – but after the first 5 or 10 minutes were spent looking for items, the TARDIS seemed to know what he wanted and had it ready, which surprised him. She usually refused to help when he was doing something to do with Clara. Had the girls become friends while he wasn't looking?

He shrugged and strode off to the kitchen to cook fishfingers. And custard.

Bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, he waited impatiently for the microwave to 'ping' and for the fishfingers to be cooked.

While he was waiting, he got out plates and bowls and, from some speakers he'd forgotten were in that room, the TARDIS started to play Beethoven. "That's me! Playing the tambourine!" he laughed, spinning around the kitchen, reminiscing. The ping of the microwave brought him back to the present and he poured the custard into bowls and checked the fishfingers. They tasted fine when he dipped them in custard, so he assumed they were cooked, and carefully carried the food through to the dining room. A few minutes later, Clara came in, looking flushed and pleased with herself. She was carrying a tray bearing soufflés that looked perfectly cooked and risen. "Wow," she stated, looking around the room. "This is impressive."

"I had some help," the Doctor admitted. "At first, she tried to hide everything, then she had a sudden change of heart and everything was right where I wanted it to be. Did you say something to her?"

"I did, actually, we had a chat and I think we've come to an understanding. She helped me to cook as well; she told me when to take the soufflés out." The Doctor gave her a quizzical look; how did the TARDIS _tell _her? Clara pointed a finger to her temple and realisation dawned.

"Did you go into Clara's brain?" he asked. "You know you're not supposed to do that," he scolded.

"Oh no, it's fine! It was just a kind of warm sensation that I felt. We used it to communicate I suppose. Anyway, she's already _in_ my head, to translate."

"Oh yeah." The Doctor grinned and pulled out a chair for Clara to sink into. "Well then, let's eat, soufflé girl!"

"Is that… fishfingers and custard?" asked Clara. The Doctor just nodded, happily.


	2. Seasons

**A/N This is day 2 of the Seven-Days-of-Whouffle event! This is going to include a short section for each season I think, so I hope you enjoy it! Again, I do not own DW or the characters. Reviews are much appreciated!**

* * *

"So, where do you want to go today, Miss Oswald?" asked the Doctor, spinning around the console, elaborately pressing buttons, his coat tails flying out behind him. Clara, who had just entered the control room, put a hand over her mouth as she yawned.

"I don't know," she replied. "Though there is something I'd like to do."

"My wish is your command," he said, bowing to her and she stifled a giggle.

"If you're a genie, do I only get 3 wishes?" The Doctor was about to tell her he could take her to a planet where the genies gave out unlimited wishes as long as they were within strict guidelines, but she steamrollered on. "No, never mind the genies. I was thinking, I've always wanted to experience different seasons on the same day. So I can see straight up how different each time of the year is and how different a place looks at a different time of the year." It was an odd request, but perfectly within the Doctor's capabilities; in fact it was almost insulting them.

"If it's what you want," he said, shrugging and bringing up a data map of Earth. "Open spaces… early 21st century… find the best place and year to go to. Get a good variety, see." Clara joined him at the scanner, as he eliminated years and places.

"How about central park, 2012?" she suggested, and she felt his body stiffen.

"No, no… not there…not then…" Clara looked at him, confused; she didn't realise he had been there with Amy and Rory the day he lost them for good. "How about Hyde Park? London 2015? Some good weather and some _great_ views. Lots of trees you see." He drifted into a slight daydream.

"I knew a tree once… she was lovely…"

"Um, Doctor? Are we going or not?"

"Right, yes, sorry," he said, bouncing back to the present and springing into action.

A few pulled levers and pressed buttons later, they came to a halt. "Hyde Park, January 27th 2015. After you." Clara darted out of the doors, ready for whatever weather awaited her…

* * *

**~Winter~**

"Oh my stars it's freezing!" exclaimed Clara, wrapping her arms around herself. The Doctor emerged right behind her and draped a coat he'd grabbed over her shoulders and she pulled it on gratefully.

Predictably, the Doctor didn't hang around and by the time Clara had zipped up the thick coat, he was busy trying to make a snowman. Even though they had another 3 seasons to visit, Clara just shrugged, running over to join him. They were in a time machine; they could stay for as long as they wanted – well, a few hours anyway.

"Do you have a carrot?" asked the Doctor once they'd finished their masterpiece. Both of them had been a bit wary, after all, the last time they were in the snow in London, nothing good happened. Clara shook her head and the Doctor looked disappointed.

"Scarf? Hat? Coal?" Clara kept shaking her head and his face fell further, then he brightened up again. "Never mind! We'd best be off! Seasons to visit and all that!"

With that, the Doctor dashed back to the TARDIS, grabbing Clara's hand and dragging her along with him as he went.

* * *

**~Spring~**

"Welcome to spring!" announced the Doctor, flinging his arms wide open and spinning around, taking in their surroundings. It was April 5th and all the trees around them were covered in beautiful blossoms.

"Wow," gasped Clara. So much had changed in the last 2 and a half months. The snow had melted and the grass was visible; beautifully green. There had clearly been quite a few showers, as the ground was still damp.

The Doctor disappeared back into the TARDIS and came out with a small picnic and a blanket, which the TARDIS had apparently provided. "She's in a good mood," he said, shrugging when Clara looked at him quizzically. "Shall we?" he gestured to the ground beneath a tree and Clara nodded.

After another 2 hours spent in Hyde Park, the picnic was almost eaten, apart from dessert. The Doctor was feeding Clara strawberries and they were both laughing. Suddenly, the Doctor dipped his finger into the cream they had to go with the strawberries and bopped Clara's nose.

"Hey!" she protested. "Cream on my nose!" She wiped it off her nose with one finger, then she licked it off her finger. "All clean," she said, sticking her tongue out at the Doctor, while he packed everything away.

"Good," he said absentmindedly. "Time to see what summer's like?"

"Oh yes," said Clara, taking the arm he was offering her and skipping back to the TARDIS.

* * *

**~Summer~**

On August 2nd, the TARDIS landed in Hyde Park for the 3rd time that year, or day – depending on how you looked at it. Clara and the Doctor emerged, wearing sunglasses, carrying deckchairs, ready to join the hoards of people sunbathing, so they were surprised when they exited the TARDIS to… rain. Clara shrieked in shock and the Doctor looked around, confused. "But… the scans said today was a typical British summer day!"

"This _is_ a typical British summer day! Rain is common here!" Clara told him, irritated. The park was almost deserted, apart from a few people carrying umbrellas and walking dogs. Those who passed gave the couple a weird look, whether it was because of their attire or the deckchairs, the Doctor and Clara didn't know. It was probably both.

"Shall we go?" asked Clara, quickly tiring of standing just outside the TARDIS, getting soaked. "Autumn might be nicer!"

"Quite probably," said the Doctor. "All the leaves will be turning then."

"I meant the weather, but that'll be nice too! Come on, let's go! I'm getting absolutely soaked!" Clara pulled open the TARDIS door, followed, rather reluctantly, by the Doctor.

* * *

**~Autumn~**

"This is better," said the Doctor, emerging from the TARDIS for the 4th time that day. "October 25th and the sun is shining." Once Clara had made sure that it wasn't raining, she too left the TARDIS to have a look around.

"Oh this is beautiful!" she said, reminded strongly of the story of how her parents met, because of the leaves on the trees.

"I like autumn. It reminds me of Gallifrey. All the oranges and reds and golds…" Clara took the Doctor's hand and squeezed, not wanting him to get lost in the past. Autumn had strong meanings and connotations for them both, and if either thought about it too long, they'd get upset and the day would be ruined.

"Let's just enjoy our last season, eh?" suggested Clara, smiling. "I bet you can't catch a leaf that's falling off a tree before it hits the ground!" The Doctor puffed out his chest and straightened his bowtie.

"I bet I can," he said, sounding offended. Clara grinned and ran over to the nearest patch of trees, jumping up and down to catch the falling leaves.

By the end of the game, the Doctor had caught more leaves, though that was more down to his height than his skill. His tactic was to wait for Clara to spot a leaf to grab, and jump in and get it before she could reach. Irritated, exhausted and happy, Clara suggested that they head back to the TARDIS for the last time that day, and the Doctor was happy to agree. Another fun-packed day was over.


	3. Heartache

**A/N Day 3 of the 7 days of Whouffle event! I wrote this during a mood swing, hence all the angst-y stuff. I do not own Doctor Who, but please do send a review!**

**~Clara~**

"And don't come back!" Clara was being dropped off home by the Doctor after their latest argument. Sick of being second-best to the all-powerful Time Lord, Clara had spoken out, and it had led to a fully-blown argument, where he told her he was dropping her back on Earth in a fit of anger. Something along the lines of "Good, see if I care!" had come out of Clara's mouth and her anger hadn't died down as she walked into the Maitland's home and slammed the door. "Boyfriend trouble?" asked Angie, giggling. Clara let out a frustrated sigh and marched upstairs, watched by Angie and Artie who had dashed to the door to watch Clara storm off. "Is she OK?" asked Artie. Angie just shrugged and hared upstairs after Clara. No matter how much she pretended not to, the teen really did care about Clara. The door to Clara's room was shut and barricaded and from inside she could hear sobs and the sound of smashing glass, or china. Angie motioned for Artie to leave and not find their dad. "Clara?" asked Angie.

"Go away!" came the sob. The sound of smashing had stopped and it sounded like Clara's energy had run out. "Clara, please just let me in." But the door was barricaded and, no matter how much Angie pushed, she couldn't get the door to give. Clara was still sobbing and a cunning plan crossed Angie's mind. She beckoned Artie upstairs, because he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, torn between his desire to help and his sister's firm dismissal. "Stay here, don't talk, just listen," she whispered. "And do you know if her window's open?" Artie nodded; as far as he knew the window was open. Angie ruffled his hair and he shook it back, irritated, while Angie ran downstairs. The window to Clara's room was wide open, so Angie grabbed a ladder and rested it against the wall, up to the window. She had done this before, in reverse, from her own room, when she'd wanted to sneak out, so she just had to hope that it'd work as well if she was sneaking IN, not OUT. She climbed up the ladder with minimal injuries, just a couple of scratches where the rose bush had caught her. She reached the window and pulled herself in. Any dignity she had had left as she flopped through the window and landed ungracefully on her stomach. "Oof," she muttered. Clara had moved the bookcase to block the door shut and she was sitting with her back against it, one leg folded underneath her, the other was pulled up, and her head was in her hands. Because her hair was cascading over her face and she was sobbing, she hadn't actually noticed Angie enter, which was a miracle in itself. Clara's vase was smashed on the floor, so Angie had to tread carefully around the pieces. When she reached Clara, she saw her knuckles were bleeding, probably from the splintered pieces of china that was decorating the room. She put an arm around her and felt Clara start, but Angie held her and Clara gently relaxed into her. The sobs that racked her body started to slow down and her breaths slowed. "Have you still got the helpline number?" asked Angie. Clara nodded, wiping her eyes. "I'm going to phone that outer-space idiot and give him a piece of my mind." It was a testimony to how fragile Clara was at that point that she didn't try to stop Angie. A piece of Angie's mind was scary at the best of times, but when someone hurt someone she loved… things got ugly. Quickly.

**~The Doctor~**

He had dropped Clara off and dematerialized quickly, but not quick enough to escape the vengeful "And don't come back!" that she had screamed after him. Fuming from their argument, he pulled the controls furiously. Their argument had occurred just after he had discovered the position of a Dalek battle ship, and he intended to go and defeat them. Without Clara. He wasn't thinking rationally; he was going in alone, but he would be armed. He was never usually armed, but of course, all logical thought had left his head. While the jammie dodger he'd used last time hadn't been the TARDIS self destruct button, this time, it would be the real thing. He landed the ship in the middle of the ship; no use being subtle. The hand holding the self-destruct preceded him out of the ship, as he called, "Don't shoot! This is a self-destruct, one wrong move and I'll use it." He heard the mechanical whiz as the Daleks scanned it, verifying his words. He emerged from the TARDIS fully, to address the Daleks. "I'm not going to give you a second chance," he said. "This time, you die. I don't care about taking myself with you. Don't think I do."

"Who. Are. You?" demanded the Dalek. For a second, the Doctor was thrown, then an old, distant memory surfaced. Oswin Oswald, wiping his name from the Dalek mainframe, making them forget him. "I'm the Doctor. I'm the Predator. I'm the Oncoming Storm. I'm the last of the Time Lords. And right now, I'm armed and very, very dangerous. So don't push it." Even if the Daleks didn't remember him specifically, they remembered the Time Lords alright.

"Impossible. The Time Lords died."

"I didn't. But I'm about to." The memory of Oswin, and the connection he had felt between them was only making his anger towards the Daleks worse. They had done that; they had killed her. And he was angry at Oswin too, because she was an echo of Clara. She had ruined his plan, by removing him from the database. But none of that mattered, not anymore. He was going to do it. Kill them, and him. He was about to, when the phone rang. The arm holding the self-destruct dropped to his side and he was suddenly aware that the Daleks were all getting ready to fire at him. He dropped all plans to blow them all up and instead darted into the TARDIS, slamming the doors behind him just in time to miss the lasers from the Dalek guns. "Hello?" he asked, picking up the phone, although it was a cold, hard tone, not at all friendly.

"It's Angie Maitland. You get back here you great big outer-space idiot! Get back here now or so help me I'll build a ship myself and come and find you, you… you… OH JUST GET BACK HERE SO I CAN YELL AT YOU PROPERLY!" she screamed, before slamming down the phone. After his close brush with death, the Doctor sighed. He really did have to go back to the Maitland house and sort out the mess he had created.


	4. Friendship

**A/N Hope you enjoy please do feel free to send me a review! I do not own Doctor Who, but thank you for reading!**

"Clara!" The Doctor shouted cheerily down the phone, causing the brunette on the other end of the line to hold the phone away from her ear, wincing as the Doctor's voice boomed out.

"Ow," she complained. "I phone to ask you to come and get me and you deafen me? Not very friendly, is it?" The Doctor looked confused and checked the date again. No it definitely wasn't a Wednesday, unless the TARDIS had gone wrong. Again. Which, he had to admit, wasn't unlikely. If it was wrong, it was only a couple of days out, so it wasn't a big error. Not like the time he'd aimed for Rio and ended up in a small village. Or the time he'd aimed for Vegas and hit a Russian submarine and almost stopped the Cold War, making into what could potentially have been a World War. But that crisis had been narrowly averted.

"It's not a Wednesday is it?" he asked, to make sure.

"No," Clara replied. "Does it have to be a Wednesday? I need a hand, that's all. A space-time-machine is exactly what I need when _Angie springs a party at a days notice._" Clara spoke pointedly and the Doctor was certain Angie was in the room and had just gotten a major glare. Either that or she'd given it to Artie and the poor boy was running upstairs away from an angry Clara.

"O-kay… are you asking me to help with the shopping?" he asked, a little bit hurt. "Not a day trip to the moon?"

"We took the kids to the 'best theme park in the universe'. Look how that turned out. They had a go at anti-grav, so I don't think the moon is a good idea, no. Not even with a picnic. Plus, my cars broken down and the kids' dad had to and take Artie to some football match and asked me to sort it out. Then I found out my car's broken down and he's been gone for an hour and a half and he said he'd be home in 2 hours… So I really need help here, Doctor!"

"Ooh OK, right, I'll be there right about now," he said cheerfully, pulling levers. In her room, Clara heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing and started to dash downstairs, calling to Angie to put her shoes on.

"It's your party, you can choose what to buy!" she hollered, hanging up abruptly and unlocking the front door to find the Doctor standing there already. He'd done away with their usual precaution and had just parked right outside.

"I haven't done this for ages," he said, grinning. "I hardly remember the last party I went to, unless… no, that one doesn't count." Clara raised her eyebrows, but there was no time for questions because Angie dashed downstairs, ready.

"Are you two going out or what?" she asked. "Because you _act_ like you are." Clara and the Doctor both shook their heads.

"We're just friends," they said at the same time, catching each others eye awkwardly.

"Ri-ight," said Angie, in a voice that showed she totally didn't believe them and rolled her eyes as she pushed past them to get to the TARDIS. The Doctor and Clara quickly followed, Clara giving instructions on where to go.

"We'll be back in no time," said the Doctor. He was in a ridiculously cheery mood, partly because of the unexpected phone call and he wanted to dance! People dance at parties, so he had decided he was going to stick around for the dancing.

The TARDIS materialized literally 2 seconds after it dematerialized, although it had been well over an hours worth of shopping for the Doctor, Clara and Angie. They piled out of the TARDIS, arms full of decorations and food. "Next time you promise everyone a great party, would you mind giving us some notice Angie?" asked Clara, panting as she lugged a box with a disco ball in out the TARDIS.

"Nonsense it's more fun this way!" yelled the Doctor, dumping the bag of food in the kitchen. Clara hit him playfully on the arm and he faked a pouty face at her.

"Stop it you," she told him, giggling.

"Secretly dating," sung Angie under her breath as she dropped her bag and started to pull out decorations.

"Shut up, else we'll take all this stuff back, right Doctor?"

"Oh, um, yes. Totally." Then he added, in a lower voice to Angie "will there be dancing?" Angie nodded uncertainly and he grinned happily and straightened his bowtie.

"Geronimo," he grinned. Clara groaned – she knew about his non-existent dancing skills but she didn't warn Angie. Call it a little punishment for not telling them sooner.

An hour later, Mr Maitland and Artie came home to a fully prepared house. The Doctor had moved the TARDIS round the corner and he was sitting on the sofa munching a jammie dodger when Mr Maitland came in. "Hello," said Mr Maitland, confused, until the Doctor leaped up.

"Oh, Doctor Smith, sorry, I didn't realise it was you."

"Not a problem," replied the Doctor, enthusiastically shaking Mr Maitland's hand. "And just 'Doctor's fine, thanks. Clara called and asked me to help out and I was more than happy to."

"Oh, well, I should be annoyed because she assured me she'd be fine, but if you're happy to help..."

"I'm always happy to help Clara," he said and Angie raised her eyebrows suggestively, which he missed. Mr Maitland, however, was thinking along the same lines.

"Oh, um, are you…"

"No," said Clara firmly, coming out of the kitchen with a plate of food. "We're just friends. Still. And Angie, you better get ready. People will be arriving soon."

The party was a success, except for the Doctor's dancing. No-one else was dancing, as was fairly typical of a teenagers party, but the Doctor still did the dance move known as the 'drunk giraffe'. All the girls gave him an extremely weird look, muttering and laughing and Angie went bright red. Feeling sorry for her, Clara took the Doctor out. "You can't do that; you're embarrassing her!"

"I was only dancing," he protested.

"Yes, but, honestly, you looked like an idiot, OK?" Wounded, the Doctor looked down. "Sorry," said Clara, melting. "But maybe we should pop off. Did you mention the moon?" The Doctor grinned again, back to his usual bouncy self.

"Yes… the moon should be fairly safe… no invasions scheduled for today…" Clara followed laughing, without a shred out doubt that the moon would be being invaded right at that very second and they'd end up having to run for their lives.


	5. Separation

**A/N Day 5 of the Seven Days of Whouffle event! The task was separation and I can't think of any kind of cheery way to do this, so I apologise in advance. Please feel free to send me a review telling me why you liked it, or why you didn't. I do not own Doctor Who. This is in first person, but it switches between the Doctor and Clara. It should be clear as to who is narrating though!**

**~Clara~**

"I'll find you!" had been his last words. The last words he shouted as I was dragged away, while he was restrained. This world was sexist, I thought angrily, kicking the door of my cell. Brunette men were worshipped and given a massive feast while the brunette women were… whatever this was. I had a feeling it wasn't anything good, judging by the whole I'm-in-a-cell thing.

I had screamed and kicked and fought, but I'd still been dragged away from the Doctor, who had been pinned against a wall by 3 of the natives. They were all ginger, and very religious apparently. Hence the whole brunette men versus brunette women. The best case scenario I could think of was that I was going to be kept in here forever. And I doubted that. Some of the worse case scenarios involved being eaten, or murdered, or tortured or… oh God. Sacrificed to some ancient God they believed in. As much as I absolutely abhorred the idea, I knew it was the most likely one, because of the religion and my current situation.

"Am I going to die?" I asked the guard outside, not expecting a response.

"Yes," was his brief response, which didn't make me feel any better. "You will die honourably, as a sacrifice to the great God of the Moon."

"Oh, well I'm glad it's the God of the Moon!" My voice rose in pitch until it was almost a shriek and I turned around, slamming my back against the door and sinking down to the floor, crying in desperation. I needed the Doctor, even if he couldn't save me; I needed his arms around me, comforting me. I could still hope that he would help, save me, do _something_, but I knew the chance of that was slim. There was no way he was getting away from the celebrations to get me out. But there was a fragile piece of hope buried inside of me that I would not allow to shatter. Not right up until the last second, because I trusted him. And I would continue to do so because it was the only thing I had left. My trust in him. And it would stay, buried deep inside, impossible to root out, right up until my very last breath.

"_I love you_," I whispered. I had to say it, at least once, even if he couldn't hear me and would never know. The sobs racked my body as I curled up in a heap on the floor.

"Doctor, please, after everything, you can't _leave me here_!" I knew he couldn't hear me, but I was terrified, and alone, and I was just desperate for help.

At some point, I crossed the line into hysteria and started screaming inarticulately, until the guard outside closed the only window in the door and gas started to fill the room.

Then, I started to hit the door with balled-up fists, yelling and crying, until the gas overcame me and I passed out.

**~The Doctor~**

"I swear, if you hurt Clara, I will not be responsible for my actions," I snarled as I was dragged out of the room by the ginger guards. How come EVERYONE on this planet got to be ginger and I didn't? 11 faces and not ONE of them was ginger.

"You will co-operate, or things will be worse for you and… the other one," was the reply from a guard after exchanging glances with the others.

"Her name is _Clara. _And I will not co-operate until she is _safe_."

"You will sit in on the feast. And then we will deliver this… Clara to her rightful owner." I rolled me eyes. Clara wasn't a _pet_. I didn't _own _her; she was a human being and she had free will. And boy did I know it. She was always so trusting in me, yet when she could take control, she did. It was her who told me when she would travel with me; it was her who told me where we were going to go. But if they would let her go if I went to this feast, I would go to the feast. Why they were holding her captive if all they were going to do was let her go? It didn't make sense, but I was willing to play along.

"If I go to this feast, you'll just let her go?" I asked, to clarify.

"She will no longer be kept against her will," was the reply, which only vaguely satisfied me.

"And me?"

"You will not be permitted to leave. You will become our King." I groaned. I had had quite enough of being a ruler. I wasn't really leader material and tended to pass on any responsibility in that way as quickly as I could.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. I don't do King. Besides, King Doctor sounds awful. Now, if you want someone _called_ King, I can sort that out for you. King King, that sounds far better, don't you think?" I knew I was babbling, but I wanted to get both me and Clara out of this. The guards apparently weren't fans of this suggestion, because they didn't respond. I was shown to a sort of throne, which was actually quite comfortable. The guards stood around me, trying to give the illusion that they were protecting me, but I knew different. The citizens – ginger citizens – of the planet entered and started to take their seats, muttering appreciatively. They were fooled by the illusion the guards were giving out, but I was not. I knew they weren't protecting me; they were keeping me there.

**~Clara~**

I wasn't sure how long I was out, I was just aware of being half-asleep as I was picked up by the guard as if I weighed nothing, my head lolling against his chest. He wasn't carrying me like I was a person, more like I was a body. In his eyes, I may as well be dead. The little flame of hope inside me still hadn't died and I was clutching to my trust in the Doctor, because it was the only thing keeping me strong, and I was going to have to be very strong, because I knew what was going to happen. I knew they were going to kill me. I felt oddly light, like the gas they had used on me hadn't fully worn off, which I assumed it hadn't, as I was still sleepy. It was like I was on painkillers and I doubted that I would have any kind of filter on what came out of my mouth. Whatever they had given me seemed to be numbing my fear, because all I could feel was empty, with a tiny little spark of hope.

I was carried into a room and tied down to a table. "This is where I die, isn't it?" I asked, more interested than scared. The man carrying me didn't respond. He just checked I was tied down securely while I pulled pointlessly on the ropes.

"Hm. Good knots," I told him. "Well done. Do I get killed now?" Suddenly, one of the walls and the roof started to move away, until there was no roof on the room, and it had joined another room, where some kind of celebratory meal was taking place.

"Doctor!" I yelled, recognising him on some kind of throne. That was interesting.

"Clara!" He yelled back, trying to get up, but he was held back. "You said you'd left her go!" He was shouting at the ginger men around him.

"They're going to sacrifice me to the Moon God," I told him. The gas was wearing off and I was becoming scared. "A rescue any time now would be great." He was fighting to get to me, struggling against the ginger men holding him back. The others – citizens of the planet? – were sitting around, not doing an awful lot; just watching.

Suddenly, one of them stood up.

"This man is our leader," he said. "We obey his will. If he wants us to let him and the girl go, we should." Slowly, very slowly, the other citizens stood up, joining him in a silent protest. Even the guards around me started to put down what they were holding and back off to the crowd. Soon, all that were left not standing with the protesters were me, the Doctor, and his guards.

"This is our religion," one of them decreed. "We will obey the rules in our religion! This man is going against our religion! We shall force him to give up the throne and sacrifice him with the girl!" The man who'd first stood up to the guards stepped forwards. "Untie the girl."

Two men moved towards me and began to work on the knots. I stood up, rubbing my wrists.

"Thanks," I muttered to the men, still reluctant to trust them. Some of the protesting citizens had brought out weapons and were aiming them at the guards. Their message was clear; let the Doctor go, or die. All of the guards left, except one, who was still holding the Doctor, around the neck. He was struggling to breathe and I tried to run to him, but I was held back, but not in a threatening way.

A gun-shot later and the guard holding the Doctor was on the floor, dead and the Doctor was gasping for breath. The hands holding me were gone and I ran to him, enveloping him in a tight hug.

**~The Doctor~**

I hugged Clara back, so pleased that we were both alive and well. I steered her away from the corpse of the guard, because I knew she wasn't too good with bodies. The other citizens were already dealing with the body, respectfully. No matter what he had done, he was still a leader and they would treat him with the respect that they were meant to show. I watched over Clara's shoulder as they closed his eyes and covered him in a cloth. I pulled back from the hug and kissed her forehead fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Clara, I should've looked after you better."

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I'm fine, you're fine, and… I love you." I was too shocked to reply, but she pulled me close and kissed me, as she had done in Victorian London. This time, I didn't flail messily; I kissed her back and put my hands on her waist. That _was_ what you did with hands when someone kissed you, right? I was pretty sure you weren't supposed to wave your hands around as I had done last time and her waist seemed like a natural place to put them. One of Clara's hands was on the back of my neck and the other was in my hair.

When we finally broke apart, the ginger inhabitants of the planet were being awfully polite and pretending to be busy, like they hadn't been staring, which they probably had.

"Thank you for helping us," I said, sincerely. "We're going to leave now, so you can get back to normal, sort yourselves out. But we are very grateful for everything you've done." I took Clara's hand gently, because I knew she was scared, even if she wasn't showing it; this would have shaken her up. It had shaken me up and I was far more used to being kidnapped and almost-sacrificed and worshipped. Admittedly, the worshipping hadn't been so bad.

Clara and I headed back to the TARDIS, still holding hands. To be honest, I liked the feeling of her small, warm hand in my own, bigger hand. I had spent so long unravelling her mystery, and now I knew who she was, I felt guilty, for putting her through that, I felt protective over her, and I thought I might just be in love with her. She was pretty, funny, smart, witty, and well able to look after herself, I knew that, but that didn't make me less protective. I wanted to take care of her and I hadn't been able to today. That had scared me, but she was back now, safe and she had said she loved me. But that couldn't be right; I was the person to blame for the hell she went through, but she loved me? If she did love me, I would do my best to be worthy of that, because I loved her too, more than anything in this whole universe. My Clara.


	6. Unresolved Sexual Tension (UST)

**A/N Day 6 of the Seven Days of Whouffle event. If you'd be so kind as to tell me what you thought in a review, I will send you internet cookies! I do not own Doctor Who.**

"It's stopped moving," the Doctor said, confused. He and Clara were pressed together in a rather small lift, which had stopped moving.

"What's happening? Are we there?" asked Clara. The Doctor shook his head.

"We're between floors, we're not anywhere," he told her, angrily, kicking the door.

"Hey," hissed Clara. Whenever either of them moved, they brushed against the other and kicking the door took a lot of moving, so much that she ended up squished against the wall.

"Sorry," he muttered. "If I could just get to the controls…" Unfortunately, Clara was by the controls, so this took up to a minute of awkward shuffling, pressed against each other. Even once he was against the wall with the controls, he needed to get his sonic screwdriver out.

"Can you just back up a tiny bit?" he asked. Clara rolled her eyes and pressed herself against the wall as much as possible. The Doctor backed up so he could reach his pocket, pinning her against the wall. Once he had extracted the screwdriver, there was the process of getting to the level of the controls that needed fixing. Clara was still pinned against the wall as the Doctor sank down to a crouch.

"Doctor," she said, as he crouched beside the panel. "Your head's, um, in an awkward place." He blushed and tilted his head forwards so it was nowhere near Clara. Clara managed to fold her arms because she had a lot more room from her hips upwards.

The Doctor was busy poking at wires with the sonic and Clara's feet were starting to ache. She hadn't sat down for at least 5 hours and it was getting to her. "As quick as you like, you know, that'd be great," she grumbled. The Doctor was letting out frustrated growls as the work he was doing didn't make the lift move.

"It's deadlock sealed," he told her. "I think. Either way, I can't make it move!" He stood up in one fluid movement and kicked the wall, squishing Clara again.

"So what do we do?" she asked, irritated. "We can't just stand here, fighting for space until someone fixes it! That is assuming someone _does_ come to fix it!"

"Oh, yes, someone's coming. They'll be here in about an hour I should think. Until then we're just going to have to… well, I don't know." Clara scowled and had to think about the best way to spend an hour in confined space with the Doctor. The ideas she had weren't all entirely appropriate, but there was one.

"Well, to feel less confined, we should probably get as close to each other as possible, like hugging." Before she could say anything else, the Doctor had wrapped her in a hug that literally picked her off her feet.

"Brilliant plan! But can we really hug for an _hour_?"

"Probably not, but it'll pass some of the time. We can… talk." If anything, hugging made things worse. It made the couple feel even more confined, but it was in a way, comforting.

When they eventually let go, they were both hot and bothered. The circulation wasn't great in the lift and the air was getting hotter and hotter. Plus, there was a lower level of oxygen than was normal, so it was just getting harder to breathe in general. "Doctor, it's getting hard to breathe," Clara murmured, although he had noticed that. She sank to the floor, her legs pulled in close to her so there was room. She shuffled into a corner, so the Doctor could sit facing her, in the other corner. The two of them sat and although they were in corner as far away from each other as possible, there was still no room. They were still pressed against each other and eventually, the Doctor crossed his legs, causing Clara some discomfort and he indicated that she should sit on his lap.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded, so she crawled onto his lap and let him cradle her against his body.

"I'm just so tired, you know," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's the lack of oxygen. Don't sleep, Clara, stay with me." He held her close to him, as if it would help her to stay awake.

"What about you? Are you tired?" asked Clara.

"I'm not so bad. I can last longer without oxygen than you. In fact, I've hardly been breathing for the last 10 minutes so you can use the oxygen."

"You shouldn't do that if you need it," she told him. "You should breathe."

"I'm fine," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You need it more." Clara pulled in a big breath.

"I'm gonna stand up," she said, pushing herself off him and struggling to an upright position. He joined her, because he wasn't sure how much oxygen there was left and he didn't want her passing out. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her upright.

"You know, we really are quite intimate here. People might talk."

"Talk… yes… No, I'm sorry why are they talking?"

"About what we could be doing in here."

"Oh… Oohh." Clara laughed slightly at how slow he could be. He'd gone bright red and she'd hardly said anything. It was kind of cute how he blushed at anything. They couldn't deny that they were rather close.

"The sooner rescue comes, the better," muttered the Doctor, and Clara had to agree. Slowly, the lift started to move and they looked at each other, excited.

"Yes!" cheered Clara, jumping into his arms and hugging him. The door opened and they dashed out, finally out of the lift.

"Hello old girl!" called the Doctor, running straight to the TARDIS.

"Oh, come on, you," Clara told him, in the doorway to the TARDIS.

"Right, yes, sorry," he said, following her into the spacious room.


	7. Domestic

**/Last Chapter/**

**A/N The final day of the Seven Days of Whouffle event :c The final theme is 'domestic' so please prepare for adorable fluff that will occur. I do not own Doctor Who, but if you'd drop me a review, it'd be amazing.**

"How about this?" asked Clara. She had been told to choose a movie for her and the Doctor to watch, but so far he didn't like any of her suggestions. Eventually, she'd decided that romance films were _definitely_ not his thing, so she gave up, slightly disappointed. The TARDIS had thousands of films, including about 100 Star Wars, the originals and remakes, both human and… alien. Clara had steered away from the alien films, but a Star Wars remake could be interesting. She picked one up from the 31st century and showed it to the Doctor. _Finally_, a nod. She picked it up and put it in the DVD player before she sat on the sofa with the Doctor. He had brought popcorn and a blanket to their little date and she snuggled up next to him as the titles rolled. "Good choice," he told her, kissing the tip of her nose. "Eventually you found something decent."

"I'll have you know I like romance movies," said Clara, pretending to be offended. He grinned and bopped her nose before kissing her again. Clara smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, letting him wrap his arms around her. The movie began and the Doctor started to watch it, but Clara was too busy watching him watching the movie. Every so often, the Doctor would take a piece of popcorn and feed it to Clara, making her laugh.

"We should do this more often," she murmured.

"Sure, when we're not running for our lives from aliens," he replied, still absorbed in the movie. Clara giggled and pulled her legs closer into her body. The Doctor moved the blanket so it was covering her better.

"This is a nice break from running for our lives. Nice and quiet and romantic." She reached up to kiss him and he turned his head so she missed his cheek and kissed his lips. Neither of them minded that they were missing the movie because they were kissing, but eventually, they had to break apart.

Clara put her head back on the Doctor's shoulder, sleepily. The Doctor turned his attention; or part of it, back to the film. Clara felt her eyes grow heavier – the film wasn't really her thing and she was exhausted.

"Go to sleep," the Doctor told her, and she moved backwards, so she could lay her head in his lap.

The film continued to play as Clara drifted off to sleep, the Doctor absentmindedly stroking her hair as she drifted off, into a deep sleep. The last thing she remembered was being kissed on her forehead by the Doctor being told by him that he'd be there when she woke up.

When Clara did wake up, she wasn't on the sofa and it took her a moment to realise where she was, because she hadn't seen this room before. She rolled over and saw the Doctor lying next to her, still awake.

"Is this your room?" she asked, sleepily. He nodded, still watching her. "Oh. I thought you didn't sleep."

"I don't usually," he told her. "But sometimes I do, so I have a room. And this is my room. Usually it's hidden, so no-one can accidentally stumble on it."

"Why, so they don't find your secret stashes?"

"Because, sometimes, I want some privacy. So the TARDIS redirects people away from it. I think she might let you in now."

"Thanks," Clara said, a little bit honoured. "I guess that means I've been accepted by your ship."

"Yeah, I guess she likes you now. Otherwise she wouldn't have let me carry you in here. She'd have kept redirecting me to your room." Clara laughed, wrapped up in his arms.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course," he said, kissing the top of her head. "And I love you too. So, how about breakfast? Everyone loves a good bit of breakfast. Most important meal of the day!" He leapt up and Clara followed, slowly, because she was still a bit stiff from her long sleep. How he managed day-to-day life with no sleep was a mystery to her. It had to be a Time Lord thing. He probably plugged himself into some kind of_ machine_ that the TARDIS kept hidden from her. Shaking her head at that ridiculous idea, Clara followed the Doctor to the kitchen for some kind of breakfast; probably a strange combination that he'd invented.

**So, that's it for Seven-Days-of-Whouffle! If you enjoyed, you might want to check out Perfect Imperfection, my other Whouffle-oneshot collection which will be updated. I promise. This is over now, unless the organisers of this event decide to hold another at a later point. Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoyed reading my work. Bye for now,**

**~Ellie**


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